


sing you to sleep

by Hyacinthus



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-04-23 18:59:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4888276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyacinthus/pseuds/Hyacinthus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various short wrestling pieces based on prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: couch cuddling

“There is a bed right there,” Seth said, squirming under Dean’s weight. “A whole entire bed where you can take your nap. And where there’s not a bed, there’s floor! You have lots of choices that aren’t on me.” 

Dean made no audible reply, just wiggled to make himself more comfortable, tucking his chin into the space between Seth’s neck and the couch. He hummed, a mindless little tune, and Seth could feel the vibration of it through Dean’s skin where they touched. Dean’s eyes shuttered closed, and his breathing grew deep and even. 

Seth sighed and brushed Dean’s hair back from his forehead. He could be uncomfortable for a little while.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: car crash

Dean had never liked Seth’s motorcycle. He would point out the safety issues, the fact that Seth never wore a helmet. Seth would laugh at him, clap Dean on his shoulder - c’mon, Dean, he’d say. I’m careful. I like the feeling of the wind in my hair. And are you really one to talk about safety?

And Dean would let it drop, because it wasn’t worth a fight that would end with both of them unhappy and fuming and with not a damn thing changed afterwards.

Well. There wasn’t a damn thing to change now, was there. 

Seth had been a little tipsy, fine to ride he had said, and his friends had let him go. Dean refused to talk to them when they came up to him; he wasn’t going to give them forgiveness. He knew they weren’t to blame, but it was still too sore and raw and - Seth was in the fucking ground. 

It would’ve been fucking kinder, Dean thought, if the crash had killed him instantly. None of the false hope that came from being told Seth was in critical condition, but there’s a chance, the doctor had said, and Dean’s heart had leapt, because Seth was all about capitalizing on chances. 

Except the one that mattered, it seemed. So Dean couldn’t even fucking watch, the doctors had pushed him out of the room when Seth’s heartbeat went thready and wrong, had pulled the curtains down on him while Dean beat against the unyielding glass. 

The doctor that came out was young and there were lines around his mouth. He sounded genuinely sorry and tired and Dean almost decked him right there in the hallway, could’ve screamed why didn’t you try harder and he’s a fighter and why are you lying to me. 

Instead he nodded, felt that cool iciness flood his veins like when he was young and walking past his mother, and inquired about payment and paperwork. He signed where they pointed out and went home, curled up in his and Seth’s bed, and stared at the wall before drifting off into an uneasy sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What happened doesn’t change anything.” - rolleigns
> 
> For Neff. 
> 
> More ambiguous on the pairing front, here.

Roman looks at his phone, finally remembers to blink. It’s been three minutes since he heard, and his eyes are red and watery but that’s just from his distraction. He’s not crying; wouldn’t cry for _him_ , anyway.

He shouldn’t still have Seth’s number. He knows Dean still does. Knows he won’t tell Dean he kept it in his phone, like Dean wouldn’t tell him. Seth was a mutual weakness, and it still felt wrong when Roman walked out from the crowd alone. 

Seth won’t even be walking in from gorilla. Not with that leg. Roman’s seen worse - Sid Vicious’ leg, grotesquely bent, comes to mind - but he knows the way limbs aren’t supposed to go, and the way Seth’s leg bent wasn’t natural. 

He’s clutching his phone so hard he almost expects the metal to start bending under his fingers, twisting until it must resemble the mess Seth’s made of himself. Always pressed himself too hard; Roman would tell him, slow down, you don’t have to go for high-risk maneuvers in every match. Seth never listened, would just give Roman a smile and say, “not much to me without them.” 

Masked as a joke, a nothing comment, but Roman knew part of Seth thought it was true. His baby brother was constantly doubting himself, it was why he pushed and pushed and pushed. It was why he disbanded the Shield. That insecurity came out as ambition and it was the reason Seth wasn’t by his side anymore. 

Why hadn’t he and Dean been enough? 

Roman drums his fingers along his thigh before flipping his phone over. Types in the number he has memorized, even now, and waits for the ringing to start. He hopes Seth doesn’t pick up.

“What do you want, Reigns?” Seth’s voice is flat, resigned. Roman can hear bustle in the background and thinks Seth’s probably backstage, getting checked out by the trainers. He doesn’t answer.

“Reigns, stop wasting my time.” 

Roman stays silent for a few more seconds, hears Seth sigh in exasperation. 

“I just wanted to check in on you.” Roman’s voice is deliberately level, slow and patient as he can make it. 

“Why? Want to gloat? Tell me you’re coming for my title? Or - oh, Reigns, tell me you don’t care? Little pathetic there, big guy.” Seth laughs, not his real laugh but his ring laugh, and it’s high and hollow.

Roman hates him almost as much as he loves him. Seth has always been infuriating. Back in the Shield it was almost cute, the way he could turn people on their heads. Now that they’re on opposite sides, all it is is annoying. Roman never knew what to do when Seth turned it on him. It made his head spin, a little, and he used to like how that made him feel. Not anymore.

There’s nothing else for him to say. Seth would just turn any comment around anyway. 

Vaguely Roman realizes Seth’s still talking, and he tunes back in, wondering why he’s doing this to himself.

“- doesn’t change anything, Reigns. Have fun keeping my title warm for me.” 

Seth hangs up, and Roman looks at his phone screen, wonders how Seth can make him feel like shit in fifty-three seconds.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to send me prompts at praetorian-guard.tumblr.com!


End file.
